
Class^.i \£Q 

Book __ 



7 

FUNERAL ORATION 



BY 



EPIIRAIM II. FOSTER: 






DELIVERED IN THE 



McKENDREK CHURCH, NASHVILLE, TENNESSEE, 



ON THE 



OCCASION OF THE CELEBRATION 



OF THE 



OBSEQUIES OE HENRY CLAY: 



July 28th, 1852 



NASHVILLE, TENN: 

W. F. DANG & CO., BOOK AND JOB PRINTERS, DEADERICK STREET. 



i a so 



i 



ET3+0 






COKRKSI'ONDKNCE. 



Nashville, July 29th, 185-. 
To the Hon. ErHRAiM H. Foster: 

Dear Sir: — The general Committee of Arrangements, app< >i ntfl bjf 
the Citizens of Nashville, to prepare the Obsequies of Henry Ci.av, have 
directed the undersigned to solicit for publication a copy of your \ 
eloquent Oration upon that occasion. Hoping that it may be agreeable to 
you to gratify the wishes of your numerous friends by a compliance with 
this request, 

We have the honor to subscribe ourselves, 

Your very obedient servants, 

JOHN HU. SMITH. 
RO. G. SMILED . 
J NO. A. McEWEN, 

Committee. 



Nashville, July 20th, 186J. 
To Messrs. John Hugh Smith, Ro. G. Smiley, John A. McEwen, Com- 
mittee. 

Gentlemen:— I have received your polite note of this morning re- 
questing meto furnish you for publication a copy of tin" Oration delivered 
on the occasion of the Obsequies of the Hon. Henry Clay; and with plea- 
sure herewith hand a copy of the same for that purpose. 

Be pleased to accept my grateful acknowledgements for the kind and 
complimentary terms you speak of it. At the same time, I fear that the 
judgment of the public will not be as favorable as your own. 
1 have the honor to remain, 

Very faithfully, your obedient serv't. 

K. H. FOSTER 



KMERA I ORATION. 



The emblems of mourning that hang in deep and Btudi id 
festoons around this sacred desk, the anxious and attenti\> 
gaze of so many silent eyes, and the solemn stillness that 
pervades these consecrated walls, all proclaim the sorrow thai 
penetrates every heart in this vast assembly. The angel ot 
death has been in our midst. He has struck in our high 
places. A great man has fallen, and we come together, on 
a day set apart and dedicated to his memory, to manifest our 
grief. Henry Clay is no more. In the ripeness of old age, 
but more crowned with honors and renown than he. was bless- 
ed with lengthened years, he has been gathered to lie 1 fathers. 
He sleeps in the noiseless tomb, and we shall see him no more, 
forever, in the glory and the brightness of his long and shining 
career. 

And who will say that his departure — late as it was — o 
natural in the course of time and so much to be expected 
is not a national loss! Or friend or foe, who, in this hour of 
our sadness, can refuse to join in a parting tribute to the recol- 
lection of a patriot whose fame has reached the utmost bord- 
ers of civilization, and whose imperishable name will be 
chronicled in all time to come, in the proudest annals of the 
Republic? 

And now that he has passed to his sreat account, it i- ■- 
to dwell onsuchaman, and, in the hour of these funeral rites, 
to repeat the story of his deeds and recount souk- of the greal 
actions that have distinguished and immortalized his lit-'. 

The illustrious citizen whose loss we now so deeply deplore, 
was born in the ancient commonwealth of Virginia in the 
month of April, 1777. He was of poor, but virtuous and _r< 
putable parentage, and under the pressure of thai u»nei 
destitution which so often nerves and spirits ;i nobj* Wldgen< r 
ous ambition, he was — like most others of ipeera 

the living and the dead, who-.- <*aract*fs already illu- 
minate and adorn the short J>* brilliant page of our nation- 



[6] 

al progress, — the architect of his own fortunes: and irom the 
most humble and unpromising beginnings, ascended the -high 
estate" which signalized his life and has finally given him an 
historic name. The "Mill Boy of the Slashes"' — such was the 
homely soubriquet of his youthful days — deprived, in early 
boyhood, of the provident care of a good father, was neces- 
sarily consigned to the culture and protection of an indigent 
but exemplary mother, and opened his horn book for the first 
time, in a school house "made of crib-logs, with no iloor but 
the earth, the entrance — serving for door, window and air- 
being always open." Under these lean and unfavorable 
auspices, and without ever afterwards having had the advan- 
tage of any higher source of tuition, he began and ended his 
literary pupilage, and was, at the tender age of fifteen, trans- 
ferred thence to a mercantile counter in the City of Richmond, 
and, at the end of another year, to a lower clerkship in the 
high court of chancery of Virginia. 

A faithful representation, up to this time, of the person and 
the appearance of the obscure lad who was destined, in the 
fullness of his davs, to command the united confidence and 
applause of an admiring people, would unfold a picture at 
which a cynic might smile, and which, in the mural it forcibly 
teaches, should excite the "high hopes" of all the poor and 
unwashed children who swarm in the low log cabins of this 
equal, free and happy land. The future statesmen and orator 
— he, on whose patriotic and burning lips a listening senate 
has so often hung in delight and veneration, and whose mighty 
\oice, warmed by the most pure and lofty inspirations, so 
frequently afterwards invoked the -cuius of liberty in our 
public councils, or called back tin; nation t<> a knowledge of its 
true and best interests, — was. in his youthful days, awkward 
and ungainly in person and deportment, and raighl then be seen 
at any summer's sunrise. — half clad, uncovered and unshod — 
bounding along in a merry gambol of Lnnocenl and thoughtless 
boyhood, heading a juvenile chase after the small game of the 
adjoining woods, or, tricked off with the home made satchel 
that contained his book and his coarse and scanty mid-day 
meal, trudging to the school house, all full of morningjoy and 
gay and sportive as the wild birds that caroled in the forest 
around him. 

Such were the first prospects and such the early promisi 
"f a haplesslad, who, on the proofof his own words, "nevei 
recognized a father's smile, nor felt his caresses," and who, 
with all his unrivalled latent powers— "poor and penniless, 
w'uhout the favor of the great, and with an Imperfect and 
inadequati « lucation,"— bul \'o\- the timely interposition of a 
few generous ir-n- 1 . might h one, with the million who 

hail preceded him, "an , , ,, honored and unsung" to an 

obscure or an ignoble grav* indeed, it has often hap- 



i 

pened, that genius, repressed by ''chill penury," or fatal lj 

blighted by the ignorance or the cold indifference of an envi- 
ous and self seeking world, has been doomed to lead an in- 
glorious life and disappear forever, without leaving a solitary 
trophy behind to commemorate its hard fought battles, its 
victories, and the extent and immortality of its conquests. 

Most happy, however, for the American people and for the 
lamented dead whose obsequies we now celebrate, the grate- 
ful patronage that kindly removed him from his humble and 
unnoted birth place to the ancient capital of his native State, 
rescued his name from oblivion and laid the foundations, broad 
and deep, of the brilliant fortunes he afterwards achieved. 

At the immediate time of his auspicious advent into Rich- 
mond, the great destined statesman was, we are told, indif- 
ferently advanced in the most common country education of 
his day. lie was provincial, too, and unrefined in his man- 
ners, and clad in domestic garments of uncouth cut and tex- 
ture. They were the best, no question, and the most genteel 
that the loom and the hands of the good mother of the 
"Slashes" could fabricate and fashion: but they figured 
strangely in the streets and saloons of a polished metropolis, 
and made the awkward lad who wore them, a rare and fit 
subject for the jests and criticisms of his youthful associates. 
A short acquaintance however, with the high merits and the 
true worth of the rustic of Hanover, quickly turned ridicule 
into respect and admiration; and it was not long before those 
who were the first to laugh at, were the first to honor and 
applaud him. The artless and unsophisticated "new comer, 1 
they soon discovered, was willing, apt and vigilant in service. 
— he was virtuous — he was industrious and steady in hi^ 
habits, and with all, he manifested superior capacity and an 
extraordinary rapidity of perception, and could with littl. 
instruction and as little practice, master and accurately exe 
cute and dispatch any branch of office business to which he 
was detailed. He delighted, too, in days of labor and nights 
of reading and contemplation: and accordingly his idle and 
pleasure hunting companions, returning at a late hour from 
their accustomed revels, always found him seated, where the] 
had left him, attentively engaged in some favorite study. 

What wonder then that a great chancellor — the learned 
and illustrious preceptor of Jefferson — whose duties led him 
frequently to the apartments of his clerk, should become ac 
quainted with the extraordinary mental endowment-; and the 
rareworthof the favorite of his official household. What won 
der that this clerk, at the earnest request of the good chancellor, 
should transfer his excellent and trusty subordinate to the for- 
mer as his copyist, his confidential friend and his associate in 
the manual labors of his station. What wonder, indeed, that 
this venerable and afflicted Judge— full of benevolence a- hy 



was of wisdom and knowledge, and always the patron and ad- 
viser of virtuous and aspiring youth — charmed with the indus- 
try and capacity of his destitute and talented assistant, should 
take him by the hand, point him to the high summit whence 
flowed wealth and fame, and nobly volunteer to aid, direct 
and guide his footsteps in an attempt to make the rugged and 
dangerous ascent And in this generous offer, the future desti- 
ny and tin' bright fortunes of his promising young scribe were 
securely sealed. He entered eagerly on the study of the law, 
and having in due season completed his forensic education, 
he removed, before the close of his twenty-first year, to the 
State of Kentucky, anil commenced his professional career in 
a town to which his great name and his residence have im- 
parted national immortality — for, Lexington, so long honored 
by his presence, and, hard by, his own beautiful Ashland — 
now another JMonticello in the West — cultivated and adorned 
by his taste and his labors, and finally hallowed by the ashes 
of its illustrious lord, shall live in history and in song, and be 
visited by pilgrim patriots until the American people shall 
cease to imitate the virtues of their heroic sires, and grow 
weary of that freedom for which they expended so much blood 
and treasure, and for the possession of which so many mil- 
lions now mourn in hopeless and heavy chains of bondage 
and captivity. 

We need not dwell on the professional progress and the 
rapid rise of our ambitious beginner. His acquirement-, the 
practical powers of his mind, and his intellectual capacity 
bore their rich fruits, ami the young stranger, who — penniless 
and friendless — had courageously taken his seat ••in the midst 
of a bar uncommonly distinguished by eminent members," ami 
whohas himself recorded the .joy ami delight with which he 
received his first "fifteen shilling fee," realized his brightest 
day dreams, and "immediately rushed into a successful and 
lucrative practice." Ami if there be any in this large assembly 
— as some, we are sure, there must be— who, under similar 
disadvantages, have achieved similar professional fortunes, 
they will, we know, in view of thea ing examples, join 

ns in commending hope and confidence to the hearts of the 
whole American youth. Let them be early taught to know 
and believe that, in a Government of practical freedom and 
equality, there is no -royal road" to the temple of Fame — 
that the pathway thither is open alike to e\ ery condition of 

life, and that so long as the opulent and the high born, can 
no titled supremacy, the poor and humble should never 
repine or despair. If indeed, they will only remember the 
encouraging truth, the surest promise is theirs; for the ex- 
perience of every observer proves, that whilst wealth and 
plenty, too often enerv id relax the energies of the mind 

and lessen the chances of ambition, the want of these doubt- 



[9] 

ful blessings gives strength and Inspiration to the heart, and 
often times enables the indigent and needy to reach hon< ra 
which riches alone can never purchase and seldom or ever 
win. 
Jin the instance of the departed statesman of whom we speak, 
[c short interval between his successful appearance at the 
and the beginning of his political career — though full of 
Iterest to himself— is chiefly to be signalized in a public 
Jotice of his life, by a marriage, which, — fortunately for both 
larties, — was as happy and as full of constancy and affection 
Its it was enduring. The venerable mother of his children — 
Ji few years his junior — blessed and supported with more 
tealth and vigor of mind and body, than usually accompany 
|her protracted existence, and crowned, in the late twilight of a 
[long and exalted day, with unclouded hope and confidence on 
the promises of her holy religion, still lives to join in the 
the united grief of a great nation over the canonized remains 
of the man of her first, her last and her only love. She had 
seen the cold and uncharitable earth close over all of her 
numerous offspring save four, and she had doubly mourned a 
heroic son, — in name, in person and in pride and chivalry, the 
mould and image of his own great father — who had glorious- 
ly fallen, far away from home, doing gallant battle for his 
country In these overpowering calamities she had gently 
bowed her submissive head and looked to Heaven. 

But the inexorable messenger — insatiate of victims — too 
soon alas! for a broken heart, came again, and the aged and 
bereaved matron — stricken down by a last hard blow, to a 
still deeper depth of sadness and sorrow — sits now in her 
lonely and disconsolate chamber, weeping by day, and through 
her dreary midnight vigils, over the loved lord she shall see no 
more forever — he who, in youth, in manhood and in old 
age, and through many long years, had been the object of 
her affectionate attachment and admiration, and whose kind 
and familiar voice had, in other days, so often tuned her soul 
to notes of life and joy, or soothed and calmed her heart in 
the hour of its unutterable afflictions. 

Truly a mother in Israel; she is a child of "many sorrows 
and full of grief." Of sorrows, indeed, that pierce and para- 
lyze the heart, but speak not, and are only seen in the heav- 
ing bosom, or heard in the deep drawn sigh of hopeless and 
unspeakable despair. We may send her our sympathies an I 
join in her griefs: but the great Physician, who dwells above, 
can, alone, administer the balm of healing to a prostrate and 
down trodden spirit; and He will, in His own good time and 
manner, dry up the widow's tears, or mitigate her sullerii; 
To His merciful and beneficent keeping, then, we consign the 
aged mourner and turn our thoughts again to the dead. 

In the beginning of this century, we know, historically; that 



[10] 

the 'wo great parties which then divided the American people, 
had assumed, towards each other, a most rancorous, resolute 
and determined attitude of political hostility. The civic war 
of that day raged with angry vehemence, in all the length 
and breadth of the land, and such was the bitterness of the 
st. ife that, in the violent collisions of opinion, many good men 
tr< mbled for the safety of the Republic. If there was any 
nettral ground within all our borders, where the peaceful 
might have stood and contemplated the fearful fraternal 
struggle, there were none so tame or so indifferent as to be 
ready or willing to occupy its space. The old, the middle 
aged and the young, all alike excited, rushed to the battlefield, 
and no where else were the elements of contention more 
fervid and fierce than they were in the young '-hunter State" 
of the West. 

If the Federal party in Kentucky vainly boasted a superior- 
ity in the wealth and talent of the country, the Republican 
party felt the strength and vitality of numbers; and these 
quailed not, neither did they blanch before the enemy. They, 
too, had their leaders — brilliant, fearless and undaunted — for 
Henry Clay, true to the instincts of the liberty loving class 
from which he sprung, and early taught in the Virginia school, 
was of them and among them. He was there, a youthful, 
but a steel clad warrior, ignorant of the weight and excellence 
of his own good helmet and buckler, or of the strength and 
keenness of his political battle-axe — a giant he was indeed, 
unconscious of "the might that slumbered"' in a giant's arms. 

On the occasion of a great public meeting in Lexington, 
and an animated and fiery discussion growing out of the 
measures of policy adopted by the elder Adams, and which 
have given an odious and a memorable notoriety to his admin- 
istration, Henry Clay was unexpectedly called up by the shouts 
and loud cries of a burning and indignant people to address 
his republican fellow citizens in defence of the principles of 
his party. The want of a more suitable forum was. in a plain 
and unartful generation, not unfrequently Buppliedby a con- 
venient cart; and from the tail of one of these primitive 
vehicles— where he was forcibly planted by the multitude — 
he stood up before the public, for the first time in his life, in 
political debate. 

Unaccustomed to the new scene, and intimidated— as well 
lie might have been — by the novelty of the task before him, 
and his own want of experience and preparation, the future 
hero of the day — we are told — grew pale, and faltered, and, for 

. w painful moments, his trembling limbs, and the inarticu- 
late sounds that passed his lips, threaten* d his own disgrace and 
the defeat and utter confusion of his friends. Such are not, 
unfrequently, the trials of true genius, even in its most ripe and 
mature growth; for real greatness, often times, stops and 



[11] 

stammers at a threshold where "fools rush in" with vain and 
presumptuous courage and self possession. But happily for 
his fame, and his future hopes, a minute more, and in that 
Hying minute "Richard was himself again!" The hesitation 
of our young and noble orator, was but the timid and fearful 
crouching of the lion-whelp who has never before essayed the 
power of his muscles, or successfully struck at the object of 
his terrible bound. The blood, which in the excitement of an 
untried exhibition, had rushed to the head and the heart of the 
speaker and scattered his thoughts, soon retreated to run again 
in its naturel channals, and a restored circulation enabled him 
to give free utterance to the forcible and convincing argu- 
ments and conceptions of a rich and unrivaled intellect. The 
soul, relieved of fear and pressure, poured forth a ilood of liv- 
ing eloquence, and when the scene closed and the curtain 
dropped, the victory was complete and overwhelming. The 
wrapped and listening fathers of the party lavished on the 
young orator their most grateful praise and all their congratu- 
lations, and the great multitude that heard him — full of ad- 
miration and frenzied with joy and delight — seized the cart 
on which he was still standing, and, with loud and deafening 
shouts of applause, drew the new born object of their political 
idolatry in triumph, through the streets of the city. 

When we remember how often it happens that the course 
and the labors of a long life are shaped and permanently in- 
fluenced, by the accidental events of a day or even an hour of 
time, we may readily believe that the destiny of our great 
friend and all his subsequent glory and public usefulness were 
created and adjusted in the incidental display we ha\ 'just re- 
counted. To suppose him insensible to the renown he had 
suddenly and causually achieved, would be to deny him the 
most honorable and commendable pride that can animate the 
human soul. We should stand too, in equal disregard ot 
the proofs of the strong emotions that dwell within our own 
bosoms, to imagine, that, with a modest an 1 anboasted con- 
sciousness of his own powers, and with all the unexpected 
laurels of that day thick clustering around his youthful bro I . 
he could have rashly determined to withhold himself from 
public promotion anil all the exalted honors that follow in 
train. He might have reasoned with himself, we admit, and. 
under the pressure of want, or, the plea of previous obl._ 
tions, he might have had the resolution to check and posl 
the tempting aspiration. But under less powerful ; 
more temperate ambition has not always been proof against 
its own yearnings, or against the flattering compliments and 
solicitations of the world; and it would have been a deplorable 
exception, indeed, if the illustrious object of tl ilemn funeral 

rite3 — warm hearted, generous, brave, great and confid 
as he was, and full of patriotism and love of country — had 



[12 

resisted the seductive allurements of place and station, and 
passed his long and lengthened years in the privacy of do- 
mestic life. Happier and more blessed and contented by far, 
we admit, he might have been — but, who — in the name 
behalf of this great people and of all coming posterity, we 
ask it — who else of his day and generation could have boi 
his heavy armor or filled the wide place he occupied in the 
hearts of that people and in the difficult counsels of the I 
public? Let a Nation answer. 

But, whatever his reasons, his desires or his motives may 
have been, we know that Henry Clay entered on his political 
life at an early age, and soon after he had passed through the 
ordeal we just described. We know, too, that after an almost 
uninterrupted public service of nearly the half of a long cen- 
tury, he died, near his post at Washington, in full panoply, 
and in the bright blaze of all his own greatness and glory. 

A short but active apprenticeship of several sessions in the 
1. igislature of his State — where he soon distinguished him- 
self, and where, on his last return he received the honors of 
the Speaker's chair — opened his way to Congress; and we find 
him, as soon as tie- number of his years had removed a con- 
stitutional disability, seated in the Senate of the United States, 
and participating in the counsels of that august and imposing 
assembly. Subsequently called by his State to the same ex 
alted station — on both occasions to till short vacancies — he 
could in his own good pleasure, have been continued in that 
elevated office; but. in 1811, the doubtful and threatening re- 
lations of our Government with the British crown, and the 
strong probability of a rupture with that Power, turned his 
ambition into a d nt channel, and tie Bought in the House 

of Representatives, a field of public labor more ar but 

mot lial with his temper and disposition, and »more 

suited in a practical exercise of the talents he ha 1 ao patriotic- 
ally resolved to devote to the vindication and support of an 
injured and insulted country. 

Thither, then, Mr. Clay was returned by the people of his 
district in the 34th year of lu- and though it was ids first 

appearance in a Legislative assembly, full of veteran mem- 
bers ai.d dignified with the collected wisdom of the Union, i 
was chosen by a large majority to preside over its delibet 
tions. What but tin- reputation that preceded him, could ha 

commanded so great a tribute, and what but the most indis- 
putable personal worth and excellence, accompanied a 
adorned by the highesl intellectual endowments, could ha 

accomplished such rare and earl\ fame? 

Nor was the enviable distinction, thus first conferred, ever 

afterwards seriou>h contested or withheld from our illustrious 

friend whilst he remained a member of the House of Repre- 
sentatives. His commission -seven times renewed and com- 



[13] 

mcnsurate with his whole service there — was only interrupt 
when important foreign duties, or domestic necessity with- 
drew him, temporarily, from his seat in that body, and only 
terminated when, in view of other and more responsible politi- 
cal engagements, hegave a final adieu to a branch of Govern- 
ment where he had labored long and with constant fidelity, 
and from the individual mi 3 of which he had recei 

many evidences of friendship and so many tokens of profound 
confidence and veneration. 

They reckon, indeed, without knowledge or reflection, who 
suppose that the important and responsible oliice to which our 
last remarks allude, can be easily executed, and may. there- 
fore, be coveted by men of moderate abilities and short i 
perience in the rules of business and decorum that guide and 
govern in all deliberative assemblies. The Speaker's chair — 
though cushioned it may be, and curtained with richest silks — 
is not a bed of roses or a place of rest and repose. To the 
successful administration of its varied duties, the occupant 
must bring the help of as many varied and rare qualifications; 
and in this respect no man was ever more eminently endow- 
ed than the great and unrivalled Speaker of our text. 
never mingled arrogance with authority, but wa 1 in 

his place without being vain or magisterial in his manner- 
kindly instructed the ignorant — be corrected good men with a 
bow and a smile, and in that way blunted the sting of a pain- 
ful but necessary reproof — he checked the turbulent by his 
stern and unshaken firmness — he always knew the business i t 
the House, and he knew, too, how to hurry and despatch it 
without, vexing or offending a laggard — when lie left 
chair he threw behind him the gavel and the mace, and joi 
in plain or playful converse and association with all around 
him, so that by his person and manner a Btranger could n< t 
distinguish the great speaker from his clerk or his door '.. 
In this way, and by a constant pr equity and 1 .-deal- 

ing, he won a confiding dominion over the hearts of 
men of all parti, I was thereby enabled thi ut all 

his lengthened presidency and in til I political 

citement, to preserve such order in the House aa v 
before excelled and has never sin [ualed. It ited 

of him, that being questioned by a ; 
ment of a social evening party where I 
feast had unwittingly led I a to en rn- 

ing hours, ''how he could p; 

he sportively replied, '■come up and you shall s J will 

throw the reins on their necks." 

But the enlarged and commanding mind that so happily 
accomplished the useful and important objects we have j 
portrayed, could not be content to sit in inglorio and 

maintain the good order of an assembly of men without 



[14] 

deavoring to infuse wisdom into their deliberation?, and aid- 
ing in an attempt to guide and influence their thoughts and 
decisions. Hence, therefore, Mr. Clay did not. at any time, 
during hi.- long presidency over the House of Representatn 
confine himself to the duties and details of the chair: nor did 
he withhold his voice or his exhortations in the eventful strug- 
gle through which the nation was then passing. Eloquent in 
speech, and powerful in argument — persuasive— ardent and 
brave, but always loyal to the constitution and to the honor 
and best enterests of his country, — he entered eagerly into all 
the counsels and public discussions of that memorable epoch, 
and, in his deeds and his labors, reared a monument to his own 
fame which time can never alter or obliterate. Born to com- 
mand, and esteeming the point of danger to be the post of 
honor, he chose that point, and was ever foremost in the 
strife, and the bitter conflicts of the day. He fought in one 
battle to harden himself for the perils and fatigues of another, 
and, sword in hand, he stood either at the weak place of his 
defences, or was found heading his friends in a desperate 
assault on the works and the strong positions of the adver- 
sary, lie knew no rest whilst there was an armed foeman in 
the' field; nevertheless, he loved peace if it could be had on 
safe, just and allowable terms, and he would, in the din and 
wild outcry of the combat, turn the hilt of his sword to the 
enemy and imploringly show the olive branch that humanely 
ornated its glitl point. It was thus that the "great 

pacificator" rescued the Republic in the fearful struggle for the 
admission of the State of Missouri into our Union, and gain- 
ed lo himself more than the proud honors of the "mural 
eath." Nor will he be without his reward— the only 
reward a true patriot ever asks or < jcpects- for, although the 
witnesses of a day when "the blackness of darkness" bung 
over the broad land, are f. ling away and there will soon 

now be none left to recount its alarms, yet history — true to 
its office— will keep the. eternal record, and its pages will 
weave unfading garlands for the brow of the statesman, who. 
by his fraternal mediations, his < loquence, and his civic valor, 
achieved a bloodless triumph for his country, saving by the 
deed, the Union of these States, and. with it, our only high 
t ture national glory, and the last hope b rth- 

ly refuge el' human liberty. 

It is n<t within the nate limit- of a funeral add;-: 

. j s it , ;' us on I occasion, to follow the honored 

and lamented dead of our present Borrows, through all the 
3 and incidents of a Ion- and eventful life. We may only 
Btop, in a rapid portraiture, to sketch, from the broad ami 
bright landscape before us, the scenes that most illustrate the 
transcendant powers of a great mind, or best delineate the 
high and sublime traits of a noble, patriotic and elevated heart. 



[19] 

be silent! — or proclaim to the surging ocean — 'Thus far shalt 
thou go, and no farther." 

Thanks to the Great Supreme, whose sovereign will can 
build up or destroy kingdoms, that good spirit was there, 
sorrowful, but serene in the midst of confusion — there that 
minister stood — 

A3 some tall cliff that lifts its owful form. 
Swells from the val ■, and midway leaves the storm. 
Though round its bienst the rolling clouds arc spread 
Eternal sunshine sanies on its head. 

A great man rose up and all eyes were turned upon him — 
he spoke, and every one listened — he supplicated, and was 
heard — he commanded and was heeded — he raised a tremu- 
lous hand, bronzed with age and feeble, and pointing an 
attenuated finger to the glittering emblem that hung, in mid 
air, over their heads, he implored Senators to behold the 
golden symbol of the strength and power of the Republic, 
and to remember that "Liberty and Union" were "now and 
forever, one and inseparable " His counsels and exhortations 
prevailed — peace and concord returned — a nation was Baved! 

And who was he — that man — the second father of 1. 
country — the preserver of the^ Union and the benefactor of 
mankind — who was he of whom we speak? [lent 

answer to our enquiry hangs trembling on every tongue in 
this great assembly, and applauding hearts are ready to utter 
the grateful sound. We seize the word, and repeat then;. 
of Henry Clay! 

Wonderful man — Statesman — Orator — Patriot — greal 
among the great, wise among the wise, and, all, combining 

in his character the strong powers that enabled him to sway the 
public policy! lie it was who mainly led his country to it- 
present high fortunes, and laid the foundations of all our 
bright and hopeful promise upon a still greater future to come 

-\orcan it be out of place in this short but interesting re- 
view of recent events, to oiler the profound and grateful 
homage of Southern hearts to the exalted worth and patriot- 
ism of those statesmen of the North, who, in a just Bense of 
paramount allegiance to a fixed law <4^ our social co 
stood shoulder to shoulder with the illustrious objeel of 1 
present griefs, and lent their all powerful advocacy to the 
adoption and the prompt execution of a legislal 
which, if faithfully fulfilled, must secure foi al 

harmony of our country. 

Honor, then, and all honor, and praise, and thanks, to | 
and to all of them — but first to the eling himself t<> 

be the President of the Nation and the whole Nation, and not 
the leader of any party, or of any fraction, or any fracl 
division of that Nation, was able — if he had any prevf 
doubts — to unlearn and overcome the prejudices of place a 



[20] 

education — to forget or disregard the influences and nil the ties 
and tender associations of life, and boldly stand forward the 
defender of the constitution, and in his high place there the 
preserver of our happy and ever glorious Union. His great 
reward is, we know, in "the answer of a good consci 
before God and the world. But he bears with this pleasing 
reflection, the superadded gratitude and. applause of all 
j^ood and virtuous of his own generation; and when the-e, and 
aliii . hall have passed away and gone into the oblivion 
; the deep eternity of the grave, the historic record — flour- 
ishing in the bright and never-fading verdure of youth — shall 
still chronicle the renown we now proclaim, and the pro 
marble of Millard standing side by side with the 

statues of Clay, of Web , shall adorn the great 

halls and temples which— in all coming time — posterity will 
not fail to erect and dedicate to the def< nders ofthe constitution 
1 the illustrious fathers oft! R public. But we have 
already drawn this address beyond its intended limits, and 
with our grateful thanks lor the honorable position assigned 
us Ijy our fellow-citizens on this melancholy occasion, we 
hasten to thi of our mournful labors. 

The successful passage of the compromise acts in the fall 
of 1850, closed, forever, the active political labors i : 
\i>v Clay— and it was lit. indeed and meet that so great a 
man should close his toils with the elo^e of a seem 
and so imposing. 

Stricken with yi suffering too, as we ha\ stated, 

under the infirmities of age, and prostrated, unto sickness, by 
the excitement and the exhausting fatigues of his last field of 
glory, he felt, too truly, that he had fatally overtaxed the 
>le powers id' his body, and wisely thought to prepare him- 
self by times, for the summon-- which, he could not help believ- 
. woidd soon call him to tic me appointed for all the 

living, lie had already made open profession of faith in the 
blood and sacrifice oi* a Redeemer; and having devoutly 
Tendered his heart and all his soul to the religion oi the 
bible, it only remained for him, in tin- few fleeting momenl 
time before him, to observe and practice all its holy precepts, 
and to look alone to the atonement of the cross for that 
heavenly pea lation which all the vain and ti;. 

tory honors of the world can neither give nor take away. 

ified in his own reflections by tin- opinions and the 
advice of his medical friends, he determined to si lief and 

an amelioration of his condition, by relaxation from all 
thought of public affairs; ami, accordingly, taking leave ofthat 
body in whose counsels his mighty voice was destined n< 
ain to be heard, he travelled by waj of the North, and, in 
md circuitous marches, finally reached his own home, 



[21] 

whence, on the approach of the present session of congr; 
he returned, weak and enfeebled, to hi- place at Washington. 
Alas! for all the hopes and prayers of his friends, "the 

angel of death awaited him at the gates of the city", and a 
few rapid months drew up the curtain that concealed life from 
immortality, and manifested to his iirm vision the realities of 
an eternal world. 

A soft and gradual decay of the vital powers, unaccom- 
panied by any protracted acute pain, gently and kindly cut 
the strong ligaments that chained his soul to its "mortal coil,'" 
and his great spirit, joyously bounding away from its earthly 
prison, soared aloft to Heaven, and unto the God who gave it. 

31 i:\ry Clay, the great, the wise, the virtuous, the incorrupt, 
and incorruptible patriot — he is no more, and a nation mourns 
his departure! lie fell like a sere and yellow leaf in autumn 
— like ripe grain in time of harvest! lie is gone where we 
must all go — for life is but a dream — in all its various estate- 
a fleeting shadow! The poor die and sink to a neglected grave 
— the rich die and go to the sepulchre, clothed in linen and rich 
silks and are remembered by the costly marble that marks the 
resting place of their ashes. "The tall, the wise, the reverend 
head* 1 — they too, must all die, and follow in the long and 
countless train that constantly trends to that undiscovered 
country from whose "bourne no traveller returns." 

The bna«t of heraldry — the pomp of power, 
And all that beauty, nil that wealth ere guve, 
Await alike the inevitable hour: 
The paths of glory lead but to the grave. 

The Sage of Ashland — the Statesman of mankind — the 
Orator of his age! He is no more! Great in life, sublime in 

the last struggle, and happy in his exit! 

"He gave bis honors to the world — , 
His bitted part to Heaven." 

Our tears bedew his fresh grave, and our children, and our 
childrens children shall rise up in their generations and c< 
brate the virtues of the patriot who — nobly refusing to sacri- 
fice the honest convictions of his mind for the sake of power 
and station — magnanimously declared that he "had rather be 
right than be President." 



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